I Need You
by dphillips76
Summary: Season 4 story. Castle has been giving the Beckett the cold shoulder, and she doesn't know why. He's so different than he was, and she can't help but wonder if she's missed her chance. One night, the tension finally gets to her and she tries to numb the pain. Set somewhere after 4x19, "47 seconds" and before 4x22, "Undead Again". - Update 10/19/14 - now a multi-chapter story.
1. Chapter 1 - Need You Now

**Disclaimer: **Characters are property of ABC and Mr. Andrew Marlowe; I just like to play with them sometimes.

**A/N:** Please be kind and take a few seconds to leave a review, even the shortest ones are appreciated.

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_**I Need You**_

Kate had been sitting on the corner of her desk, staring at the murder board for hours now, oblivious to the fact that she was the only one left in the bullpen. She's been holding a dry erase marker in her hand, clicking the top on and off, over and over. No one was there to glare at her to stop, but she wouldn't have noticed anyways. Her eyes were fixed on the board, staring at the pictures and writing that represented their latest case, the victim's story unfolding bit by bit.

But her mind wasn't on the murder, it was somewhere else, on_ someone_ else other than the victim she was tasked with finding justice for. It was on _him_. Castle.

_Rick._

She couldn't stop thinking about the look on his face as he'd left the precinct several hours ago. His eyes that were normally creased at the edges with his boyish smile were dark and bleak and just… empty. The sparkle she'd gotten so used to seeing was gone. The deep blue color she loved wasn't bright and shining with mischief.

_Loved?_

The voice in her head makes her physically cringe at the word she's been avoiding, her shoulders hunching and her heart aching for him. She knows the dullness of his eyes and the spark that's been missing from those expressive blue orbs are her fault.

She broke him. And now he's gone. She doesn't know if he's coming back. Because for the first time in over four years, he said nothing about "tomorrow" or "see you later" or even "goodnight". He got his coat from the back of his chair, slung it over it his arm, and just walked away. He didn't glance back over his shoulder and give her that little half smile she's been so used to seeing.

The crushing reality of the situation comes crashing down around Kate in the eerie silence of the bull pen. In the dim fluorescent light of one a.m., the empty desks sit as unspeaking judge and jury, condemning her actions towards her partner, her friend. She's finally managed to alienate the one man who's stood by her side for the last four years through danger, heartache, and death. And not just the death that she deals with every day.

_Her death._

She died that day in the cemetery and he held her in her arms as the life flowed out of her body and stained the green grass around Roy Montgomery's grave. Some of the captain's last words to her had been about finding a place to make a stand, and finding someone to stand with. Castle had stood with her through so many things, waiting for her to see that he was there for her.

_For her._

Not for the thrill he got from helping her solve a case. Not for the excitement that courses through their veins when their thought processes are racing down the same path. Not for the money he made selling the books he's written using her as inspiration.

He'd waited patiently for so long, and something had happened in the last week that had made him give up the fight. She didn't know what she'd said or done, but it had to be something big to make him look at her with that much pain in his eyes. Pain instead of love.

_Yes, love. Love for her._

She'd stopped kidding herself months ago about what she saw in his eyes when she caught his gaze suddenly and he didn't have enough time to cover it up before she saw it shining out at her. Most of the time, he was good at hiding it. She'd noticed he'd been more careful about letting his feelings for her be so obvious the last couple of months. He'd been keeping his features carefully schooled to a safe neutral expression, holding the joy that usually poured out of him inside.

She'd known the hesitation in his actions and the hitch in his voice were her fault, that he was trying not to push her too far. Because they both knew that didn't work. His thinly veiled affection had been obvious to everyone around them for a long time. Esposito and Ryan saw it. Lanie saw it. Jordan Shaw had seen it (and predicted it) over a year ago. Natalie Rhodes had seen it. Castle's ex-girlfriend had seen it. Even the insurance adjuster-turned-art-thief had seen it. And they'd all watched her run away from it. For years.

_This time she'd ran too far away._

But the question was – Could she run back to him? Did she have the balls to chase HIM? To tell him how she felt? That she knew how he felt? That'd she known all along? That she remembered what he'd said? Every word.

She'd feigned ignorance, and told him that she didn't remember anything about that day, when the truth was that she remembered everything. Every single second. She remembered how he'd shouted her name and then flung himself in front at her.

_In FRONT of her._

_He'd tried to jump in front of a bullet for her._

She remembered how he'd covered her body with his, wrapped himself around her, trying to protect her. She remembered the horror on his face when he saw the blood. She remembered his arms around her, holding her, begging her to stay with him. She remembered her name being wrenched out of those beautiful lips of his as he gave up his secret, giving up the words he'd held in for so long, and the desperate hope that they would be enough to keep her soul tethered to her broken body.

"_Stay with me Kate… Don't leave me please… Stay with me okay?" _

"_Kate… I love you… I love you Kate…" _

She'd held onto those words as her fading heartbeat had thundered quietly in her ears. She'd held onto them as she'd watched the light grow just past his shoulders, beckoning her beyond this life. She'd held onto them as the hands of the paramedics had torn her out of his arms and began trying to save her life. She remembered thinking that if those words were the last ones she ever heard, it was okay, because they were the most beautiful words she'd ever heard. And then all she'd heard were muffled shouts, and the doors of the ambulance slamming shut, and the beeping of the machines trying to bring her back to life. Then it all had gone black.

He'd been there when she'd woken up of course. Looking so happy to see her eyes open and words coming out of her mouth. And he'd looked so incredibly nervous. And hopeful. Nervous that she'd remembered what he'd said, and hopeful that she did at the same time. There had been so much to process in that moment, she just hadn't been able to face his feelings for her. Or, more accurately, she hadn't been able to face her feelings for him.

Because she thought that if she wasn't dead, that she was still in danger, and she couldn't bear to think of what would have happened if he'd been half a second quicker in lunging for her. She couldn't stand the thought of him being hurt and bleeding and _shot_. The idea of having to tell his mother and daughter that he'd died trying to save her and that he'd done it _on purpose_ wasn't something that she could even begin to live with.

So she lied.

She'd lied and said she didn't remember anything, and she'd done what she always did when the feelings the two of them shared got close enough to the surface to break through – She pretended it never happened. She'd told him that she needed some time and that she'd call him.

But she didn't. Call him, that is.

And while she'd recovered, alone, in the isolation of her dad's cabin, she had thought about the time they'd spent together, how he'd always been by her side. He'd been there through all of the cases they'd solved, and the few that they hadn't. Truth be told, they probably solved a lot more than they would have without him. Or at the very least, they'd solved them faster. As much as it pained her to admit it, he had been a big help. His different way of looking at things, that outside-the-box thinking that cops often forgot because they were too busy following the leads and beating the streets, broke more cases than she could count.

He'd been there through Demming, and Josh, and all of the other insignificant ones before and in between that didn't even warrant a memory. He'd been there through gunshots, rescue missions, freezers, bombs, and everything else the criminals had thrown at her and her team over the years. He'd been there for Esposito and Ryan while she was off on disability licking her wounds. While she'd hid away from the world and her friends, he'd kept the case going, kept the fire burning when she couldn't. He'd dug the leads out of the haystacks like needles, and followed what proved to be dead ends upon dead ends. And he'd kept going day after day after day, tirelessly, while she hid from his admission of love and her feelings like a coward out in the woods.

While she was hiding from the world and from herself, the days had bled together in a constant string of pain and longing and heartache. She'd put off calling him every day, telling herself that she wasn't strong enough yet, and that she didn't want him to see the broken mess she'd become. She'd rationalized shutting him out because she was so emotional all the time. She hadn't been able to hold anything in most of the time. Every time she thought of him, the tears would start streaming down her face, and then she would just go crawl back in bed and hug her pillow to her aching chest. She'd imagine it was him comforting her, that it was him holding her and telling her it was going to be okay. Then she'd realize that she was all alone, and she'd start crying all over again.

Kate shuddered as a shiver passed through her and wrapped her arms around herself. She looked around the empty bullpen again, and she mentally berated herself for getting lost in the memories of her self-pity. She turned away from the murder board because it was obvious she wasn't going to be getting any more work done. It was time to go home and try to catch a couple of hours of sleep. She would come back in the morning and start again. Maybe the presence of her fellow cops and the sunlight of a new day could keep the dark thoughts at bay so she could focus on the case.

But when she went to grab her coat, seeing Castle's empty chair beside her desk brings it all right back to the front of her mind. Pressing her lips together, she takes a deep breath and walks out the door. But instead of heading towards her apartment, she angles towards the nearest subway station for a ride to The Old Haunt instead. She doesn't feel like going home to the quiet and the loneliness of no one to hold her and tell her it will be okay. She needs a friend. And while she seems to have alienated the closest one she's had in a while outside of Lanie, the next best thing is her friend Jose Cuervo waiting at the bar.

Kate knocks back what she thinks is her fifth shot of tequila, and sees the "don't-you-think-you've-had-enough" look the bartender is giving her. She doesn't think she HAS had enough, because she can still feel the pain of Castle's hurt pounding deep in her chest, so she calls for yet another shot. There's got to be some number of the little glasses full of oblivion that will help loosen the vise of heartache that's squeezing her chest so tight.

While she's waiting for her refill, she goes to the jukebox and feeds it another five dollars, picking out more bleeding-heart blues songs. Jonny Lang, John Hiatt, John Mayer, Joe Cocker. The men with the "J" names are the men of the hour. And though she's drinking to forget, the music makes her remember and makes her ache with longing for the very arms she's been running away from for so long. She doesn't even remember why she's running anymore, except she doesn't know how to do anything but run. She wants to call him, she wants to hold him, she wants to love him, but she doesn't know how.

She only knows how to run away.

Several shots, several dollars, and several songs later, and Kate is still waiting for the alcohol to numb the pain. Everything else is numb, but the longing for Castle seems to be getting sharper with every drink and every baleful note of music that pounds out of the jukebox speakers. She can't feel her nose, but she can sure as hell still feel the pain.

She lifts bloodstained, bleary eyes to the clock on the wall and sees it ticking just past three a.m. Raising a finger to the bartender, she signals for yet another shot. She can't remember how many she's had; she lost count about two hours ago. And though she suspects he's watering them down, she can't catch him doing it. She doesn't realize that she's the only one left in the bar, because her tequila-soaked brain fails to register the fact that it's way past closing time and that they locked the door over an hour ago. She also didn't see the bartender pick up the phone tucked away in the wall twenty minutes earlier to call the owner.

As she's swaying drunkenly from side to side by the jukebox, searching for a sad song that she hasn't played yet, she doesn't notice the blue-eyed, broad-shouldered man come quietly in the front door and make his way to the back. When she leans against the wall and closes her eyes, he slips into a booth so that she can't see him and he watches her break herself down. Once he sees the state she's in, he motions for the bartender to go on home, and waits for her to finish chipping away the armor she surrounds herself with so that he can step in and save her, take care of her. He's still unbelievably angry with her for lying to him about remembering, but he can't turn off the love he feels for her, and it kills him to see her this way.

Lady Antebellum's "Need You Now" comes filtering out of the speakers, and the last of Kate's resistance fades away. She has always prided herself on her strength of will, but she's finally drunk enough to let it go and stop denying that she needs and wants Castle, that she loves him… _has loved him…_ for a long time. In fact, she's loved him for so long, that she can't really remember a time when she _didn't_ love him. She knows that she didn't in the beginning, that she only saw him as a selfish, self-centered, spoiled, rich-boy womanizer. But even at that point, she loved him as the author whose words helped her get through the dark times after her mother was murdered. And over the years, as she got to know the real man beneath the persona, her heart slowly schooled itself to see only him. Somewhere in the midst of the near death experiences that they seem to have a knack for getting into, she's become so completely _his_ that she can't imagine him not being a part of her life, her future. The future she sees in her mind is no longer her own - it's _their_ future. _Together_.

She's spent the last few months trying to "get better", but deep down she knows it's just another excuse to hide her heart so that it doesn't get broken again like it did when her mom died. Now, she's finally scattered enough pieces of her self-control around her on the hardwood floor to unearth the feelings she keeps shoved down inside. She lifts them out of the darkness that her soul has become, and she accepts them, breathes life into them, and they rise up from the depths, breaking the shackles her denial has used to bind them. They slowly seep into her veins, soaking into the spaces between her blood cells, quickly spreading warmth and love through her inebriated, sluggish limbs.

She can feel the tears welling up in her eyes, because she knows it might be too late. She might have made him wait too long. After all, what man could withstand the punishment, the heartache she's put him through? What man would follow her around day after day, month after month, year after year, waiting on her to make up her mind? She knows the answer to the questions pounding in her head…

No other man but Castle.

There's never been a man in her life that had the character fortitude to break through the walls she's built around her heart. There's never been a man that has made _her_ want to live beyond those walls.

Until him.

It kills her to know that it could be too late, that all the things she fears might be true. Her drunken, bumbling fingers dig her phone out of her back pocket and she stares at the screen. And when she sees the missed calls blinking on the display, the last, lonely, crumbling brick falls away in a little puff of dust, coming to rest in the rubble of the wall she's held on to so tightly for so long.

Somehow, determination breaks through the haze she's drank herself into, and she quickly swipes the screen to unlock it and touches her finger to his number before the coward inside her head wakes up too and talks her out of it.

As she holds the phone to her ear to listen and wait for the sound of his voice answering, she hears a phone ringing behind her. It doesn't mean anything at first, just another noise in the background mingling with the song on the jukebox. But then, the sound really breaks through her concentration, and she hears the ringtone, getting louder (and closer) with each ring.

Frowning, she pulls the phone away from her face to stare at the screen, making sure the call is still connected. Her addled brain is confused because the ring tone that she hears behind her is the same one that Castle has programmed for her in his phone. She thinks that it's her imagination - that she's hearing things because she wants to hear his voice so badly.

In that moment that her focus stutters, the recognition fires through the nerve cells in her head, but she still can't put the two together in her head… She's wondering how she can be calling Castle and hearing his phone ring at the same time. Then a soft voice behind her makes her wildly racing heart stumble in its staccato rhythm.

"Kate." He says softly, from right behind her.

His low voice sends goose bumps shooting up all over her skin. She still thinks she's hallucinating, and pulls the phone away from her ear one more time to look at the screen. The display still shows his smiling face, and says dialing, so she doesn't understand how she can be hearing his voice.

"Kate… Turn around and look at me." He tells her, his voice a little louder this time.

She does turn around, and she sees him standing there, and she blinks a few times, trying to determine whether he's real. He looks real. His eyes are heavy with a tiredness that consumes his whole body. His shirt is rumpled, and untucked, and his jeans even look a little worse for wear.

"Castle?" She croaks out.

"Yes, Kate. It's me. I'm here." He closes the small remaining distance between them, and gathers her into his arms, pulling her to his chest and tucking her head under his chin.

He feels her breath hitch, and then she's gasping and her slender arms are snaking around his back and she's clinging to him like a life-preserver in a storm-tossed sea. And when first her shoulders, and then her whole body, start shaking with sobs, he squeezes her tighter, trying to keep her together while she falls apart.

"I'm sorry Castle. I'm so sorry…. so very sorry… very, very sorry." Kate forces the words out of her mouth between the gut-wrenching sobs she can't stop. She knows that she's crying, and that she's soaking his shirt, but she keeps holding on, clinging to him with every bit of strength left in her body.

"Just let it go Kate. Let go, get it all out. I'm here, and I've got you." He whispers into her hair.

She feels his breath in her hair, and the strength in his arms gives her comfort, gives her strength. After a few minutes she's finally able to stop the tears from pouring down her face and onto his shirt, but she still stands safe in the circle of his arms. She's holding on with her face buried in his neck, and she can feel his heartbeat pulsing against her forehead.

Kate thinks that she should probably let him go, but she can't make herself do it. She doesn't ever want to let him go again, but she doesn't know if he still feels the same. He was clearly angry with her before, but he's here now, and he's holding her, comforting her, his hands warm against her back. Surely that means that he still feels something, right?

Finally tired of standing in one place, Kate pulls back so that she can see his face. She's surprised to see his eyes glistening and traces of wetness on his cheeks.

"Oh, Castle. No. Why?" She whispers and swipes away the offending trails with the tips of her fingers.

"How can you ask me that Kate? Are you really going to stand in front of me right now and tell me that you don't know?" He pushes his hands through his already tasseled hair, and steps back from her. Because he can't be mad, can't focus when she's standing so close. And not when he just got done coaxing her tears out of her and holding her while she purged her soul of whatever darkness had brought her here tonight to try and drown it out.

"Castle, I…" She starts, but that's all she gets out before he interrupts.

"Don't Kate. Just don't. Forget it. I know how this dance goes. You have a weak moment, where you show that you might actually _need_ me, or heaven forbid, that _you WANT me_, and then you push me away. But then it passes, and we go on like nothing happened, and we don't talk about it. Don't worry; I've had lots of practice pretending."

Kate just stands helpless against his tirade. She knows he needs to get it out, that he just can't hold it in any longer. And he's right, he HAS had a lot of practice at this because it seems like they've been here before. Emotionally. With the frustration and the tension building between them until something breaks and it comes spilling out.

He's waiting for her to say something, she knows he is, but she can't make the sound come out of her mouth. So, he does what he's done every other time in the past. He hangs his head, and he gives up trying to get through to. She sees it on his face, his broken heart glaring out through his eyes, and hers splinters in her chest. Because why can't she _just go to him already_? She called to tell him that she loved him, but now that he's standing right in front of her, waiting for some sign that she has a heart beating in her chest somewhere, she can't tell him, can't say the words, can't put herself out there even though she knows that he'd still take her. And then she sees him box his heart back up and pull it back where she can't touch it, and he turns his back on her, and somehow that hurts more than anything he's said.

"Just leave Kate. Call a cab and go home. I'll lock up when you leave." His voice quakes as he speaks the words, but he's not looking at her, so he doesn't see the tears start streaming down her face again. He still hopes that she'll say _something_, but there's no sound, no words, no hand lightly touching his arm, so he just walks away towards his office. He plans on soothing his nerves with a bit of Old Leo's secret stash of scotch.

Kate feels the thud of his office door slamming all the way down to her bones. But, the noise finally breaks through the trance she slipped into while Castle was pouring out his feelings, his heart. The tears keep coming because she's done it again. She could have told him how she felt, why she was here in his bar getting as drunk as possible. Instead, the thought of sharing her feelings made her freeze up. _AGAIN._

_She messed up…. AGAIN._

_Dammit, why can't she get it right with him? Why is she always hurting him?_

She wonders if she should just walk away now… Walk away and never come back, and never hurt him again. Except that just _thinking_ about doing that makes the sharp edges of panic clamber in to crowd her heart.

Finally… _FINALLY_… the thought of losing him forever gives her strength, and squaring her shoulders, she strides through the empty bar to his office. The thick wooden door doesn't deter her in the slightest, now that she's finally made up her mind. But just as she goes to yank it open, it swings open in front of her, and her outstretched hand only comes up with empty air. The momentum of grabbing for the handle throws her off balance, and she stumbles forward into his arms.

Just as quickly, he's pushing her away from his chest and back onto her feet. "What do you want Beckett?"

She almost falters again at the ice in his beautiful voice, but she shoves the cowardice away, knowing that she has to say what she came to tell him even if he rejects her. He has to know how she feels. She can't stand another second of him thinking she doesn't want him.

"You, Rick. I just want you." She whispers and brings her hands up to caress his face, feels the stubble on his cheeks scraping against her palms. And then she closes the distance he put between them and touches her lips to his tentatively.

He groans at the feel of her mouth on his and slants his head to mold his lips to hers, but then he grabs her wrists and pushes her away again. "You need to go home Beckett. You're drunk. And I can't take being another one of your regrets. Or your conquest. Or your pity case." He growls out and steps back.

She refuses to be put off. "You're not a regret Rick. You're not a conquest. And you're damned well not a pity case. I _am _drunk, but I don't need to go home. I need YOU."

She doesn't give him a chance to argue, or respond, just takes back the step he retreated and crushes her lips to his, presses her body into him, and drinks him in.

"Kate." He whimpers, pulling away just enough to get a breath in.

"Stop talking Rick, and kiss me again."


	2. Chapter 2 - When The Morning Comes

_**A/N: **__This is me taking more liberties with the timeline and order of events towards the end of season 4. Of course, I know how and when and where the "big event" happened, but if I had my way, it would have happened much, MUCH sooner. So, while the characters are not mine in way, shape, or form, this is me rebelling, and making them do what I want, when I want them to do it. So there. LOL_

_Also, I don't really know why I'm posting this now, because when I decided to add to it, I swore that I would finish it before I posted it. But I've been working on this on and off for months already and I'm hoping that posting this chapter and still needing to post the rest will guilt my sorry butt into finishing it and stop just thinking about it._

_That being said - encouragement, prodding, shaming, yelling and all other forms of persuasion are welcomed and encouraged. Actually, who am I kidding? This is me BEGGING for feedback in the form of reviews. I know you're out there because I'm still getting the occasional favorite alert, so please speak up and leave a comment :)_

**Disclaimer:** As I just mentioned, the characters are not mine. Everything belongs to Andrew Marlowe and ABC.

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**Chapter 2 – When The Morning Comes**

The first thing Kate notices when she wakes up is the pounding in her head.

The second thing she notices is that she seems to be in Castle's office at the Old Haunt. She instantly recognizes the old room with its treasure trove of history and secrets leaking out from the walls.

Then she realizes she's lying on the soft brown leather couch, covered with a wool blanket, and that someone is sprawled out next to her, keeping her warm, but making it a little crowded. She vaguely remembers being drunk last night, and coming down here to confront Castle, to tell him that she was in love with him. She knows she followed him here, to his office, after he'd gotten frustrated with her inability to speak the words she'd wanted to say when he'd cornered her upstairs. And she remembers kissing him to try and make him understand, to know and believe how she felt about it him even if she couldn't say it out loud. The rest of the night is a little fuzzy. All the details are there, bouncing around in her throbbing head, blinking on and off like fireflies, waiting for her to notice them. But she's fantastically hung over and doesn't have the energy to chase the shiny little memories through her jumbled thoughts and sort them out right now.

There's only one person that could possibly be next to her, so she turns her head to see if Castle is showing any signs of waking up. But his bare chest is rising and falling with a slow, even consistency that tells her that he's definitely still sleeping, deeply.

_Wait, his BARE chest?_

_Oh… Hell. Shit. Damn._

_Double damn._

Kate closes her eyes and groans. They immediately fly open again, and her heart flutters against her ribs while she lifts the blanket to see why Castle doesn't have his damn shirt on. She's relieved to see that the reason he's not wearing it is because she is. That relief is short lived though, because she is WEARING HIS SHIRT – which is wrong side out and buttoned wrong, by the way – and the rest of their clothes are in a crumpled heap in the floor. She feels the flush creeping across her skin as she observes Castle's naked (and beautiful) form sprawled out next to hers on the couch.

One of his hands is tucked under his cheek, the other is draped across her stomach, and there's a slight smile on his lips. The look on his face is relaxed, _happy_ even. She knows that whatever happened between them last night put that smile on his face.

_WHATEVER happened last night? Come ON Kate… who are you kidding?_

Again, the voice in her head berates her for her cowardice, and she swallows hard, accepting what she's done. She can't really bring herself to regret it. Because isn't that what she wanted? Maybe not last night, specifically, considering how drunk she was, but she knew it would happen eventually (translation - instantly) once she admitted how she felt about him. She knows precisely how he feels about her, and that he's waited a very long time for her to "fix herself", to tear down the walls she's kept around her heart for the past thirteen years. Truth be told, it's been a miracle the two of them hadn't already given in to the electric desire that had been sparking between them constantly over the past several years, even though they've been living the lie and calling themselves "just friends".

She would have to be blind, deaf, AND mute not to know that he'd loved her long before that day she got shot. Every person they'd ever come into contact with, that was around them for the barest amount of time, immediately guessed that they were together. And several of them so kindly, though not subtlety, pointed out that it was clear the two of them had feelings for each other.

She sighs, and slowly eases her body out from under Castle's arm, sliding off the edge of the couch a centimeter at a time. Even though she's made up her mind not to regret giving herself to him, she still needs a few minutes to collect her thoughts before facing him and the reality of what happened between them last night. She can't tell what time it is since they're in the basement, but her internal clock tells her that it's barely daylight outside.

Once she's sitting up in the floor, her head starts swimming furiously, but she forces it down, standing up and grabbing her clothes. With one last glance over her shoulder at Castle to make sure he's still asleep, she makes a beeline for the private bathroom in the office, not wanting to chance it being later than she's estimated and running into any of Castle's employees upstairs getting ready for the day.

Rick wakes to a strange feeling of loneliness, edges one eye open to see that he's on the couch in his office at the Old Haunt. He's naked and half covered by a wool blanket, and his arm is sweeping across the cushion of the couch like he's searching for something.

_Or someONE._

_Kate._

With a sudden, blinding burst, the recollection of what happened between him and Kate crashes into him, blurring his vision as the images take over. The scenes play out as vividly as if he were watching a movie on the big screen.

He remembers coming here to comfort her after the bartender had called him, finding her drunk and calling his name. When he'd folded her into his arms after she'd thrown herself at him, she had instantly and completely broken down, soaking his shirt with her pain while she'd been overcome by huge, shuddering sobs that wracked her entire body so hard he'd been afraid she would literally fall to pieces right before his eyes.

He'd tried to talk to her, to find out what had sent her spiraling out of control, though he had suspected it had something to do with his recent behavior. He knew he'd been blatantly cold the past week, but he hadn't been able to help himself. He'd been trying to forget her, or at least mute his feelings for her, to push them down deep and bury them under the ashes of his heart she'd burned so completely. But the moment she'd stepped away from him, she'd reeled her feelings back in and acted like she'd regretted seeking him out.

The all-too-familiar routine of her boxing her feelings up and packing them away had set him off, and he'd snapped. The hurt he'd been holding in since he'd found out that she'd heard him that day in the cemetery had tumbled out of his mouth in a blistering flurry of angry words. When she hadn't done anything but stand and stare at him, he'd turned his back on her and told her to leave. He'd stomped away to his office and slammed the door; fully expecting to spend the rest of the night trying to drown out the image of her standing in front of him looking like there was nothing in the world that could save her.

He hadn't anticipated that she would follow him, was shocked when she'd barged into the office a few steps behind him. Then he'd been well and truly blindsided when she'd thrown herself into his arms and kissed him so desperately it had woken his heart from the stupor it had been in. He couldn't stop kissing her after she told him she wanted him, that he wasn't a conquest, that she wasn't kissing him out of pity. Because he had wanted her so, so badly for so long that he couldn't even remember when he started.

She'd sworn that she knew what she was doing, even as she admitted to being drunk. So he let her take him away to a place where it was okay to touch her, okay to love her, okay to worship her body with his. Not that he'd had half a prayer at resisting her. Even if he _had_ been a conquest, he would have happily been that for her, especially if it made her happy in that moment. So he'd closed his eyes and given up the fight of holding her at arm's length, letting her passion wash away the all-consuming need that had been burning inside him for so long.

He should have known better. Hell, even on a good day and stone-cold sober, she couldn't face the consequences of her actions when their flirting and teasing uncovered actual feelings leaking out between the stones of the wall she kept around her heart. Diversion-creating kisses, unfinished, half-frozen whispers of admission, almost being blown into nothing more than dust, nearly drowning, and all the other things they'd survived hadn't been enough to make her admit what there was between them.

Lying there alone on the couch, he faced the fact staring him in the face. She had run away, yet again, leaving him to pick up the pieces of his heart and his pride that she'd left scattered and broken in her wake. There was no trace of her that he could see. It was almost like he'd dreamed the whole thing. He knew he hadn't, but her total disappearance made him doubt the truth. He could still taste her on the back of his throat, could still feel the friction burns their passion had imprinted on his skin.

But since laying around and brooding wasn't going to get him anywhere but embarrassed when someone came to get the day's operating cash out of the safe, he forced his slightly stiff body up off the couch. After stepping into his boxers and jeans, he folds the blanket, draping it back over the arm of the sofa. He doesn't see his shirt anywhere, but luckily he keeps a spare here just in case, and goes to retrieve it from where it's hanging on the edge of the bookshelf by the desk.

Feeling somewhat refreshed with a clean shirt on, he slips on his shoes and trudges up the stairs to face the day, turning the light off and closing the office door behind him. He can hear someone in the kitchen, probably prepping for the early lunch crowd, but he's glad no one is in the main part of the bar. He can't imagine facing anyone he knows just yet. He needs some time to soothe his wounded pride. Pulling the front door open just enough to slip out, he holds it as it closes behind him so it doesn't squeak. He feels like the door is closing on the potential of _them_, but there's nothing he can do about it right now, so he just pushes his hands into his pockets and heads up the ramp to street level so he can catch a cab back to his loft.

Since it's early, the street isn't crowded yet. He hails the first taxi he sees and slides in. But when the driver asks where he wants to go, he gives the address for the Twelfth instead of his apartment. Alexis left for school almost an hour ago, his mother will be on her way to the acting school, and he doesn't feel like sitting at home by himself. He decides that confronting Kate and pressuring her into talking to him is the better plan. He would normally give her "space" and not force himself on her for the fear of making things awkward, but this isn't like the other times.

She said he wasn't a conquest, that she knew what she was doing, and by God, he's going to make her prove it this time. She made the first move last night, and he's going to make the next one. He finds he's not willing to let this simmer and stew through the day, because he's afraid it will turn into _days_, then a week, and if he lets it slide, she may never even acknowledge the fact that they _made love_ last night.

It's obvious to him that she regrets it, since she was gone when he woke up, but he decides she has to be held accountable for playing with his damn heart again. If she doesn't want the burden of his love, then… Well, he's not sure what the other options are at this point, but they can't go on ignoring things just because she's _not ready_. Because he is ready and he has been for a long time. He wouldn't have given in to her advances last night if he didn't love her, and he has begun to think she might feel the same way, whether she will admit it or not.

Taking charge of his feelings, even if it's just temporarily, gives him a modicum of confidence. So he straightens his shoulders and sits back in the seat, itching to get to the precinct and call her out. He's terrified of how this "storming the fort" approach might turn out, even that it might end their relationship in any capacity, but he's done walking on eggshells.

When the cab stops in front of the precinct, he gets out and gathers every bit of courage he can muster. After a minute of standing on the sidewalk, he takes a deep breath and strides through the front doors, desperate now to see her face, to search her eyes for any trace of the love she showed him last night.

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**_A/N: _**_I'm really hoping the cliffhanger nature here will initiate some reviews. I'm amazed at the amount of alerts I'm getting for this, and even months after I originally published, and before posting this chapter. As authors, we crave those comments to let us know what you think as a reader. So... please... batting eyelashes and pulling a face here... :)_


	3. Chapter 3 - Separate Ways, Same Feelings

_**A/N: **__So… When I decided to add to this story, it was only supposed to be one more chapter, but Ch. 2 had gotten past 3 pages, and I wasn't close enough to done, so I figured I had to split it up. I know where I'm going with this; it's just taking me a little longer to get there because I apparently get a little carried away with these two._

**Disclaimer:** And now for the necessary – Characters are not mine. They belong to ABC. Their actions in this story are the product of my dissatisfied, overactive imagination.

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**Chapter 3 – Separate Ways, Same Feelings**

Kate stands in front of the mirror, gripping the sink so hard her knuckles are white because she's terrified of leaving the bathroom and facing Castle with the light of the "morning after" illuminating the reality of her impulsive behavior last night. She knows what it had to have meant to him, because if she's honest with herself, it meant the same thing to her. She was drunk, but she had been fully aware of the decision she was making, one hundred and ten percent, and she hadn't made that decision lightly. It was going to happen sooner or later, probably would have happened years ago if she hadn't been holding herself apart from him.

She'd begun to try and face the feelings she had for him before last summer, and even started to tell him when he'd asked her to go to the Hamptons with him. She broke up with Demming, and was ready to go with him, to take that leap and gamble on a relationship with him. But as usual, their timing had been off, because he'd given up on her and had taken his ex-wife with him instead. That had hurt more than she'd admitted to anyone, even herself.

After he'd come back in the fall, she had effectively buried those feelings, or at least she thought she had. As soon as she'd run into him at that crime scene, she'd been torn between wanting to throw herself at him and needing to keep him as far away as possible. The boys had stood beside her without question, hazing him a little before letting him back onto the team. And it had worked for a while. But the things the job had thrown at them through the year had brought them closer together again. He'd become her best friend in spite of all her efforts to hold him at a distance.

They had almost died together so many times it was past ridiculous. They certainly had a talent for getting into situations so far-fetched they could have been straight off the pages of one of his novels. He had been by her side, backing her up, comforting her, and standing by her through it all.

They'd been on the verge of admitting their feelings to each other that day the bomb went off in Bolan Square; they had both started to say the words, at the same time, more than once. But they'd been interrupted every time, finally promising to talk about it after the case was closed. Then he'd taken a break to get her some coffee, and she wasn't sure what changed after that. She'd come out of the interrogation room and saw the coffee sitting on her desk, but he hadn't been anywhere to be found. He'd come back a couple of hours later and had given her the cold shoulder through the rest of the case. Then he'd disappeared for the weekend, and when Monday rolled back around, he had showed up at a crime scene sporting a two-day beard and a blonde stewardess on his arm.

Her stomach roils as she remembers standing on the sidewalk in front of that dingy motel, watching him get out of his Ferrari, wrap his arms around that woman, stick his tongue down her throat _in front of everyone_, and then hand the keys to his prized sports car to her like it was just any other car. She knew she'd been staring with her mouth hanging open, but she'd been caught off guard by the blatantly lewd display because she hadn't seen him act that way in such a long time.

Reliving those events certainly wasn't easing her nerves any, so Kate pushes the memories to the back of her mind to deal with later. Taking one more deep breath to suck in all the courage she can muster, she quickly dresses and rinses her mouth out with the Listerine she finds in the bathroom then gulps some water out of her cupped hand. She knows she's out of ways to stall any longer and walks back out to see if Castle is still sleeping.

_But he's gone._

The couch is empty, the blanket folded and laying across the arm. She knows that he isn't somewhere else because his crumpled up clothes are gone from the floor where they were laying when she went into the bathroom. The only thing left is his shirt, and that's because she was wearing it.

Her breath hitches with the beginnings of a sob, and all the courage she had mustered up before coming out of the bathroom rushes out on the exhale. She presses the back of her hand to her mouth to try and hold in the cry of frustration that's trying to escape, but the tears in her eyes betray her by spilling out of her eyes. As they carve salty tracks down her cheeks, Kate accepts defeat, walking over to collapse on the soft cushions of the couch. She absently runs her hands over the flat surface, imagining that she can feel the impression of her body as she lay beneath Rick, his weight pressing down upon her as he worked her into a writhing, moaning frenzy just a few hours ago.

She's devastated by the thought that he might regret what happened, and she can't understand what would make him feel that way. They've been doing this dance for so long, but she thought he wanted her, that he loved her, that he wanted to _be with her_. She never would have guessed that he would have given in to her advances out of some sense of obligation or unwillingness to hurt her by rejecting her, especially when HE told HER that he couldn't handle being a conquest or a pity case. Yet, it seems that she's turned out to be just that for him. She can think of no other reason that he would have left the way that he did.

The sound of chairs thumping on the floor and being slid around upstairs startles her out of her pity party, and she forces herself to stand. She wipes the tears away with a rough brush of her hand, angry at herself for feeling jilted. She can't even find the motivation to be angry with him, somehow feeling that she deserves his behavior because she kept him waiting so long. The question of what she'd done to upset him last week still hangs over her head. They certainly didn't waste time talking last night, and it wasn't like she was in an appropriate state of mind for serious discussion.

She gives herself a mental shake, a quick, silent pep talk that mostly consists of things she doesn't believe, and then she digs deep, searching for a shard of pride to get her through the next few seconds. Latching onto the small sliver of courage she usually keeps in reserve for the times when her mother's absence really hits her hard, she uses the advantage of her long legs, striding quickly up the stairs to the main level of the bar and breezing right out the door before any of the employees even have a chance to register her presence.

Once she's safely on the street with the noise of the city surrounding her, she allows herself a moment to breathe in the essence of life hurrying on about its course around her. People are going about their business all around her, completely oblivious that she's just had her heart crushed, and somehow that keeps her holding onto sanity long enough to trudge to the curb and hail a cab.

She needs to go back to her apartment and get some fresh clothes so she can drag her sorry ass to the precinct. But she can't bring herself to give the driver her address. She truly doesn't understand why _Castle_ ran. That's usually her schtick. She's the one that hides from the truth. He always wants to talk about things, confront them, get all the dirty laundry aired out, washed, dried, and pressed all pretty. But now that she's finally ready to face her feelings, he's gone and disappeared on her.

Or worse, he's giving her space to collect herself and is waiting for her at the Twelfth. She definitely can't face him at work right now. She doesn't mind talking about what happened, but she doesn't think she can handle NOT talking about it and trying to concentrate on work. She damn sure can't face him and pretend that nothing happened, or look at him and see regret in his eyes.

"Hey, lady? I'm gonna need to know where you want to go." The cab driver's impatience jolts her out of her temporary stupor, and without thinking, she gives him Castle's address instead of hers or the precinct, and he speeds off in that direction.

While she's staring blindly out the window of the cab, she calls Gates to beg off from work today, saying that she's feeling under the weather. It's technically not a lie, but it's certainly not the actual truth. But she doubts the Captain would appreciate the fact that she's hung over and hiding from Castle after she had sex with him last night. That's probably a little too much information to share. She gets the standard platitude of "feel better" and agrees to do so, even though she doesn't know if that's going to be possible, especially not in one day. Maybe never if Castle truly doesn't want her anymore. If last night was his way of satisfying his curiosity of what it would be like before he moves on, she doubts she'll be able to accept it and just be his friend.

As the driver pulls up outside Castle's building, she automatically hands him some cash and gets out. The cab shoots off down the street, and she finds herself wondering why she's here. What if he's here? What if he is? What if he doesn't want to see her? What if he does?

Instead of standing on the sidewalk guessing what's going to happen, Kate forces her legs to move, trudging inside. She nods to the doorman on her way to the elevator. She's alone when she gets out on his floor, and it gives her more time to run through the possible scenarios in her mind. She stands outside his door for what seems like an hour, but is really only a few minutes. Deciding she might as well get it over with either way, she drags her arm from her side and knocks quietly on the door. When there's no answer, she pounds a little harder, but clearly no one is home, and trying not to overthink it too much, she pulls her keys out and inserts the spare he gave her when she was staying here after her apartment blew up.

Easing the door open and sticking her head inside, she calls out just to be sure there's nobody home. She knows that Alexis will be at school, and Martha is probably at the acting school, but she was hoping that Castle was here and just refusing to answer the door because he knew it was probably her. A quick glance around the loft, and it's clear that there really isn't anyone home.

Her shoulders sag in defeat and she wanders into the kitchen for a glass of water. After she automatically grabs a glass out of the cabinet, and is standing at the refrigerator looking for something to eat that will calm her queasy stomach, it hits her that she knows where everything is here. She feels at home, and more importantly, she feels safe. Not just in Castle's home, but in his life. She casts back through her memory for the last time she felt this way, but doesn't have to think hard to know that she hasn't truly felt like she was a part of a family since her mother was murdered. Back when she was young and invincible and definitely took it for granted like most other kids that age do. Her heart twists in her chest, because she's finally found that feeling again after over a decade of hurt and loneliness, and she's taking it for granted again.

Irritated with her inability to get things right with Castle, Kate slams the refrigerator door and stomps to the nearest barstool with her glass of water. She allows herself to regress to adolescence for a moment, crossing her arms on the bar and dropping her head to rest on them, letting the frustration take over. She knows she has a wonderful partner and an irreplaceable friend in Castle, and she just wants to get over _herself_ already. Except, she sort of tried to do that last night, and thought she had gotten through to him, but even after she gave her body up to him, he still left her behind this morning. She can't help but admit that it's probably her own fault for burning him too many times, for rejecting and resisting his love for so long.

She finds she's not willing to give up just yet, but she can't really do anything at the moment since Castle isn't here. She wants to go track him down and have it out, but she's afraid that they'll miss each other by some timing misstep like they have so many other times over the past couple of years. So she's not going anywhere. She knows he'll be home at some point, if for no other reason than his daughter, so she resigns herself to waiting him out. She's decided she's not going to run, and that she's going to insist they talk through this when he gets back.

In the meantime, she can smell the alcohol leaking out of her pores, and figures she might as well take advantage of his bathtub while she's waiting.

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**_A/N (again) - _**_And, here I am... still continuing instead of ending this with Chapter 3. I still have quite a bit of them hashing things out that I need to fit in, and this was a good place to stop. I really think I can wrap this up with one more chapter._

_Once more, all reviews are welcome, encouraged, and help convince me to go on. Yelling, griping, and all other forms of prodding are also welcome :)_


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